Proud?
by TeamGwenee
Summary: Before leaving for Honeymoon, Edith evaluates her relationship with her parents.
They told her that they were proud of her. That they loved her so very much. And that she knew that, didn't she? She had just changed from her delicate wedding gown and into her snug, soft blue velvet travelling clothes. They wanted a moment alone with her before she left. And so they waited patiently for her to dress before knocking gently on the door and entering her room.

Edith had already been crying, just a little. It had been an emotional day and this would be the last time she called Downton home. So it was natural for her to shed some tears. She stared round the room where so much had happened. It had been the place where she mourned the loss of Patrick, first to Mary and then to the sea. Where she wrote her first private poems and stories. Where she hid from Mary's barbs and primped anxiously in the mirror. Pinching her cheeks as though one extra squeeze would transform her into a beauty. This was the place where she ran after Sir Anthony jilted her, and where she started a fire in her agony over Michael.

It had always been her room and yet, it was never the safe haven she hoped for. Downton would belong to Mary, one way or the other. And Edith knew that her bedroom was only leant to her. She held no claim to it. When her father died she would be living there on the charity of others. For it had been long decided that Edith would be the Maiden aunt.

Maybe that was why she had such difficulty believing them when they held her in their arms and told her they loved her. Even now, she could not quite let go of the conviction that she had held onto for so long that she was lesser in her parents' eyes. Maybe not now so much.

There had been a definite change after Marigold. Papa had even apologised, and since then had been remarkably effusive in his affection. He had crowed in delight over her work. He had guarded her from hurt and let it be known to her every day that he was glad she was there. Perhaps to make up for the past. Having been wrong so often, he had probably found it easier to admit his failings than Mama, with whom the change had been less monumental. But still, she listened and talked to Edith in a way she had never done so before. Offered advice about Bertie and Marigold, and even telling her that she was proud of her for coming clean to Mrs Pelham.  
So yes, Edith knew her parents loved her very much _now_ , but _always_?

Looking back on it, she could see it a bit easier. Having found validation from other sources; not least of all from herself, she no longer analysed every interaction with her family in search of slights or insults. Oh, there had been plenty, but maybe not quite as many as she remembered.

Like when Papa had seemingly dismissed her pain over Sir Anthony. The way he said, "Oh, she'll get over it,". In hindsight, she wondered if that was that less a lack of regard for her feelings and instead more of a solid belief in her strength and perseverance? She could not tell. It was true, she never sought them out the way Sybil and even Mary did, but that was because Edith thought they didn't care. But then had that resulted in her parents' not being there for her as much as they were for her siblings because they felt she didn't need them? Or was it the other way round? Maybe it was just a vicious cycle they had all been caught in.

Edith wish that she could tell. She wished that her feelings for her parents were black and white. For sometimes they could be so reassuring, and other times utterly hopeless. She wished that growing up she knew her parents truly did care and hoped for her happiness. She wished that leaving her childhood home felt less like escaping a jail where she had been imprisoned for the crime of spinsterhood. She wished that she could go into the future without her happiness being tinged with the knowledge that for the longest time, those who should have loved her most made her feel worthless and wretched.

But then Mama pulled her into one more tight embrace, clinging as though she wished to never let go. For everything was sure to change now, the daughter she had depended on always being there was leaving her. And Papa kissed her on the cheek, his own tears mingling with hers and murmured, "We are so very proud of you Darling. You have come so far and achieved so much, despite it all,"

Despite it all. Another time, a different, unhappier Edith would have assumed that meant despite all her obvious disadvantages, despite her being Edith. And it would probably have been meant as such. But now she suspected it meant something quite different. That she had done well despite the painful and often quite ludicrous difficulties she had faced. And surely that just made the compliment greater?

"I just wish we could claim some sense of accomplishment for it all," Mama admitted ruefully, "But I am afraid that you have done everything yourself. All your achievements are undoubtedly your own,"  
"And greater deserved for it two," Papa added warmly.

And there it was. All Edith needed. Confirmation from the two of them that they knew Edith had not always felt particularly loved and cherished, at least compared to Mary and Sybil. That they knew it and regretted it, and they needed her to know they did love her very much. That was all she wanted. Because finally, everything was out in the open. The truth was admitted and she could at last move on.

"Come on, everyone's waiting for you," Papa said finally.

They were all waiting for her. A large party of people had gathered to do no more than to celebrate her happiness. She thought of her family. Those whom she had lost and the ones still with her. Mama and Papa, Marigold, Michael and Sybil and Matthew and Tom and Henry. Bertie.

And finally Edith was certain that she was loved. And always had been. Now all she wished for was a long, happy life to enjoy it.


End file.
